086 Jerusalem

Jerusalem Fallen is thy throne, O Israel!

Silence is o’er thy plains;

Thy dwellings all lie desolate, Thy children weep in chains. Where are the dews that fed thee On Etham’s barren shore? That fire from heaven that led thee Now lights thy path no more.

Lord, Thou didst love Jerusalem;

Once she was all Thine own: Her love Thy fairest heritage, Her power Thy glory’s throne, Till evil came and blighted Thy long-loved olive-tree, And Salem’s shrines were lighted For other gods than Thee.

Then sank the star of Solyma, Then pass’d her glory’s day, Like heath that in the wilderness The light wind whirls away.

Silent and waste her bowers, Where once the mighty trode; And sunk those guilty towers Where Baal reign’d as God.

"Go," said the Lord, "ye conquerors, Steep in her blood your swords, And raze to earth her battlements, For they are not the Lord’s.

Tell Zion’s mournful daughter O’er kindred bones she’ll tread, And Hinnom’s vale of slaughter Shall hide but half her dead." But soon shall other pictured scenes In brighter vision rise, When Zion’s sun shall sevenfold shine On all her mourner’s eyes; And on her mountains beauteous stand The messengers of peace;

"Salvation by the Lord’s right hand,"

They shout and never cease.

MOORE